


which nobody can deny

by boasamishipper



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: 1990s, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon, Y2K
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boasamishipper/pseuds/boasamishipper
Summary: A concept from the Top Gun discord: Mav offering himself as Ice’s birthday present, wearing nothing but a red bow in his hair.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	which nobody can deny

Ice is half Russian on his dad’s side, so New Year’s Eve is usually celebrated at his parents’ house with every available Kazansky in attendance, dressed to the nines and drinking champagne and vodka and celebrating until the sun comes up on the brand new year. New Year’s Eve is also, as of five past eight pm, his birthday — in this year’s case, his fortieth birthday, which is slightly married by the Y2K hysteria that’s run rampant since last January. One of his and Mav’s coworkers had quit the Navy six weeks ago and went off to live out his remaining days in a bunker in Utah, surrounded by other preppers and endless cans of SPAM. He’ll be in for a rude awakening on January 1st when he discovers he’s not the last man standing.

TOPGUN classes always end before Christmas, so for the last several years, he and Mav have driven (and, after relocating to Fallon, flown) to Santa Ana, California to celebrate the holidays with Ice’s family. This year, so many of Ice’s relatives are coming in from out of town that he and Mav had to book a hotel room in the city. Not that Ice really minds: half of his cousins have little kids, and the last thing he needs is one of them running into his and Mav’s room in the early hours of the morning.

Ice usually takes a nap before the New Year’s Eve party since he’ll be up until six in the morning at least, and Mav nudges him awake maybe an hour after he falls asleep. “Hi,” he says, kissing him. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s been my birthday all day.”

“Yeah, but now it’s official.” Ice squints at the clock on the nightstand, and sure enough, it’s five past eight. Happy over the hill to him. “And now I can give you your present.”

Ice frowns as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. “You already gave me your present,” he says. Mav had gotten him a watch, a really nice one that had probably cost more than both of their paychecks, and Ice had shown his appreciation by kissing Mav until they both ran out of air. “I’m wearing it now.”

“That was your New Year’s present,” Mav says. “This is your birthday present. And I’ve got a feeling you’ll like it more than the watch.”

Ice’s eyebrows go up. “Alright,” he says. “Show me.”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Kazansky, come on. Close them.” Ice rolls his eyes, but he obliges, and lets Mav guide him and sit him down at the end of the bed. “Keep your eyes closed. Hands out.”

Ice does as he’s told. He hears some shuffling noises in the background, the sound of a zipper opening, and then muffled thump of the suitcase being shoved back into the closet. He hears Mav walk across the room, and feels something being placed into his outstretched hands.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

Ice looks down at the gift bag in his hands — which, upon further investigation, contains a bottle of lube and a condom. Confused, he looks up to ask what’s going on, and every word he knows dies in his mouth when he sees Mav standing in front of him, with  _ everything _ on display. His hands are clasped behind his back, his spine straight, his ears a little pink. There’s a red bow clipped to his hair, and on his chest, written in Sharpie right above his heart in careful handwriting, are the words  _ Property of Iceman Kazansky. _

Jesus fucking Christ.

Slowly, Ice sets the gift bag aside. Unclasps his watch and puts it on the nightstand. Gets to his feet. Closes the distance between them, trying to take in everything he can at once. And Mav grins. “So,” he says, his voice low, inviting. “Better than the watch?”

“Yeah,” Ice says. His mouth is very dry; he wants to touch Mav so badly it makes his head spin. As if reading his mind, Mav guides Ice’s hands to his hips, lets Ice pull him in a little closer. Ice keeps one hand on Mav’s hip, and uses the other to touch the bow in Mav’s hair, just to make sure it’s real. Jesus, it is. Real and crooked and perfect. “Yeah, definitely better.”

He’s silent for maybe half a minute, just drinking Mav in, when Mav says, “What do you think?”

In answer, Ice kisses him, long and slow and deep, tasting him. “I think,” he murmurs against Mav’s lips, “that I’m too overdressed for a present like this.”

“Let me,” Mav says. “Let me do it, Ice.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Come here.”

Ice pulls Mav with him back onto the bed, and he settles against the headboard. Mav kneels in front of him, pulling off Ice’s shirt and pressing kisses to Ice’s neck, his hands ghosting over Ice’s hips as he slowly tugs Ice’s boxers down his legs. Once they’re off — and tossed somewhere, Ice doesn’t really give a shit where — Mav kisses his calves, his thighs, before moving further upwards, kissing his way up Ice’s chest until he’s practically in Ice’s lap, his mouth tracing a wet line up Ice’s throat, and Ice moans,  _ “Jesus.” _

“So hot,” Mav whispers. “You’re so fucking hot, Ice. So hot. So perfect, Jesus, you’re so good.” Mav kisses him, and Ice finally gets his brain working again and wraps an arm around Mav’s back, his other hand coming up to run through Mav’s hair, careful not to dislodge the bow.

Ice’s brain must have temporarily overloaded from the sheer want, from Mav in his lap, whatever, because the next thing he knows he’s on his back and Mav’s grinding against him, their cocks sliding together, and a rough, strangled noise escapes his throat,  _ fuck, _ it feels so good. “Mav,” he groans. “Fuck, Mav, I want—”

“Anything,” Mav says. “You can have anything you want, Ice, tell me what you want—”

The words — somewhere between earnest and desperate — go straight to Ice’s cock, and Ice pulls Mav even closer to him, turning them over so he’s the one on top. “I want to fuck you,” he whispers into Mav’s ear, and feels Mav’s entire body shudder at the words. “I want to make you beg, and then I want to fuck you until the only name on your lips is mine.”

Mav’s staring up at him like Ice is the only thing in the world; his lips swollen from kissing, his pupils blown. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

Ice kisses Mav one more time before moving further down, sucking at the place where Mav’s neck meets his shoulder — he wants to mark Mav all over, wants everyone to look at Mav and know exactly who he belongs to, wants those words over his heart to be a permanent mark — and loving the feeling of Mav shuddering under him, of Mav’s nails digging into his shoulders.

Slowly, deliberately slowly, he makes his way down Mav’s chest, teasing him, running his tongue over his nipples, down the grooves of his abs, and Mav is arching under him, making these little gasping noises that send Ice’s dick into orbit. “So hot, baby, look at you,” he says, not even really sure what he’s saying, but he wants to draw this out as long as he can. He starts stroking Mav’s cock, long, slow strokes, and Mav bucks against his hand, desperate for friction. “Блядь, Mav, любимый мой, so pretty, gonna spread you open, gonna make you mine, мой и только мой,” he whispers, and Mav moans — Ice doesn’t know much Russian, truth be told, but what he knows gets Mav hot and bothered every time.

By the time Mav starts begging, “Ice, please,  _ Jesus,  _ just fuck me already,” Ice is already slicking his fingers up, and eases a finger into Mav, who just moans again, louder, and spreads his legs open wider, shoving his hips forward onto Ice’s fingers. He works Mav open, adding a second finger and then a third, moving his fingers inside Mav in slow circles, arousal making his dick ache at the incoherent noises spilling out of Mav’s mouth.

“C’mon, Ice,  _ please—” _

“I got you, baby, I got you, hang on,” and Ice pulls his fingers out, because his self-control is waning by the second and he needs to fuck Mav _now._ He’s got himself slicked up in seconds, lifting Mav’s hips up, and Mav wraps his legs around Ice’s back, and Ice pushes into him in one smooth thrust.

Mav’s eyes close and his lips part into a groan, tipping his head back and exposing his throat; Ice leans over him, dropping kisses on Mav’s face and throat, whispering obscene nonsense that he’s not going to remember once this is over. It’s perfect, they’ve got the perfect rhythm going now, Ice’s hips snapping forward and Mav pushing back into Ice’s thrusts. 

“Harder,” Mav pants out, arching his back right off the mattress, “harder, Ice, I can take it, I can take it—”

“Gonna be the death of me, Mav, I swear,” Ice manages, thinking  _ God, how is he even real, _ and he bows his head, bracing himself on the mattress as he moves faster and harder, and just as his vision’s starting to go hazy around the edges, Mav groans and comes, crying out sharply, his eyes squeezed shut — and Ice follows suit, trembling from the force of his release as he collapses right on top of Mav, riding it all out in a wave of  _ Mav, Mav, Mav. _

Finally, he stops trembling and pushes himself back up, pulls out of Mav (which elicits a quick hiss) and gets rid of the condom, dropping it on the floor — oh, so that’s where his boxers went. His shirt’s hanging on the nightstand, and he uses it to wipe off his stomach before curling up next to Mav, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You good?”

“M’good,” Mav says. There’s a smile playing on his lips. “Did you like your present?”

Ice pretends to think about it. “I think I liked the watch better.”

“Fuck you, Kazansky.”

“Next time, if you want.” Ice lets out a laugh at Mav’s mock-offronted expression, and does his best to kiss it off his face. “I liked it,” he says. “I liked it a lot.” Somehow, that bow is still clipped to his hair, and he fixes it so it’s not as crooked. The words over Mav’s heart have smudged a little from sweat, but they’re still legible. It’ll probably be a few days before those fade for good. “I wouldn’t mind if the bow made a repeat appearance.”

Mav laughs. “Oh, trust me, it’s  _ definitely  _ coming back out. Your reaction was way too good for just one use.”

“Good.”

They’ve been laying in comfortable silence for about ten seconds when Mav says, “You know, if the world does end tonight, at least we went out with a bang.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ice hits him with the shirt, but Mav’s too busy laughing for that to register. He can feel laughter of his own threatening to bubble up. “That was terrible.”

“It was  _ not,”  _ Mav says. “It was funny, you laughed—”

“That was a cough.”

Mav rolls his eyes. “Sure it was, Iceman.”

As much as Ice would love to stay in bed with Mav and exchange jibes until the new year, his parents’ party starts in an hour and a half, and they need to shower and make themselves presentable (and find some way to hide the love bite on Mav’s neck, otherwise his sister will hold it over his head until he turns fifty). “We should get up.”

“Not yet,” Mav says. He moves closer, dropping his head onto Ice’s shoulder. “You owe me a decent amount of cuddling before we start getting up.”

“Mav, your idea of ‘a decent amount’ is almost an hour.”

“So?”

“So we’ve still got to shower and get ready,” Ice says. “And drive there. Not to mention you take longer in the bathroom than I do.”

Mav pouts. “I think your priorities are skewed.”

Ice laughs. “You know, Mitchell, I never thought you were this much of a cuddler when I met you.”

“Get used to it. That’s gonna be every morning and night for the rest of your life when we get married.”

“Yeah,” Ice says, quietly. DADT had gone into effect a week after Mav had proposed to him, and they’d both agreed to wait it out so they could get married for real. Better however many years late than never, he supposes. He tries for a smile. “Maybe I’ll be used to it by then.”

“Maybe,” Mav says, just as quiet. He raises himself up and kisses the corner of Ice’s mouth. “Happy birthday, Ice.”

Ice holds him close, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Thanks,” he says. “Love you.”

Mav smiles. “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translation:  
> Блядь --> blyat (fuck)  
> любимый мой --> lyubimyy moy (my love)  
> мой и только мой --> moy i tol'ko moy (you're mine and only mine)


End file.
